One of Israel's most challenging social and halachic problems in recent years has been the increasing numbers of non-Jews who are socially integrated into Jewish society.
Many immigrants from the former Soviet Union have come with non-Jewish spouses and half-Jewish children who are halachically not considered Jewish. Yet they are socially Jewish, most of them view themselves as Jewish, and they are indistinguishable from the vast majority of Israeli Jews.
According to Israel's Central Bureau of Statistics, there are some 290,000 such citizens who are neither recognized as Jewish nor Arab.
As these individuals assimilate into Israeli Jewish society, they and their children will over time be increasingly difficult to identify as non-Jewish. The results can be tragic. Imagine the heartbreak and suffering when prospective spouses discover that one of them is not recognized as Jewish. Imagine the social and political repercussions as such incidents become increasingly common.
There are no easy solutions, either politically or halachically, and with all of Israel's other pressing challenges such long-term crises often fall between the cracks. But some efforts are being made. Word is that Prime Minister Sharon considers this a high priority, and closely follows the developments.
Among the projects underway is an attempt to facilitate the conversion to Judaism of non-Jewish immigrants. The easiest way to do this is when they are already in some formal framework, usually the army.
The IDF sponsors a voluntary course for immigrant soldiers, called Nativ, which offers a broad introduction to basic Judaism. The course is run by the Jewish Agency-sponsored Machon L'limudei Hayahadut (Institute for Jewish Studies). Those who are not Jewish and wish to convert can follow the course with a conversion program.
Resources, naturally, are limited, and the program can reach only a small percentage of the relevant population. But every bit helps.
Along the way, prospective converts must spend a certain number of Shabbatot with religious families to experience religious life first-hand. We have recently had the privilege and pleasure of participating in this, hosting a pair of soldiers undergoing conversion. The Machon is always looking for more host families.
We figure we're doing our bit to make Israel's future a little brighter.
Monday, January 31, 2005
Sunday, January 30, 2005
Store still shelves Silfkin's sefarim
I stopped by a sefarim store at a local haredi neighborhood last Friday, and was pleased to discover that Rabbi Nosson Slifkin's books are still on the shelves, despite the recent rabbinical ban.
I don't know why this is: whether word of the ban even reached this bookstore, or whether the proprietors or clientele are even followers of the ban's signatories, etc. The same store carries books by Rav Soloveitchik and Rav Shlomo Aviner, so clearly they either aren't that narrowminded or don't let ideology get in the way of revenues.
Any reports from other parts of the world?
I don't know why this is: whether word of the ban even reached this bookstore, or whether the proprietors or clientele are even followers of the ban's signatories, etc. The same store carries books by Rav Soloveitchik and Rav Shlomo Aviner, so clearly they either aren't that narrowminded or don't let ideology get in the way of revenues.
Any reports from other parts of the world?
Thursday, January 27, 2005
We can try to understand the Bee Gees
If you've ever tried singing along to the falsetto squeals of disco hit Stayin' Alive, you may have wondered what the lyrics actually are.
In the innocent summer days of 2001, this was the pressing topic occupying CBC Radio's show As It Happens. Listeners were asked for the last line of the chorus:
You can hear their suggestions and the correct answer in this RealAudio clip. As a bonus, catch a Stayin' Alive parody at the 4:53 mark.
For more details, see here (after you listen!).
What those lyrics mean is a far greater mystery....
Update (31 Jan.): Thanks to Reb Yudel for digging up the Bee Gees' Israel connection. Who knew?
In the innocent summer days of 2001, this was the pressing topic occupying CBC Radio's show As It Happens. Listeners were asked for the last line of the chorus:
You know it's all right. It's OK.
I'll live to see another day.
We can try to understand...
???
You can hear their suggestions and the correct answer in this RealAudio clip. As a bonus, catch a Stayin' Alive parody at the 4:53 mark.
For more details, see here (after you listen!).
What those lyrics mean is a far greater mystery....
Update (31 Jan.): Thanks to Reb Yudel for digging up the Bee Gees' Israel connection. Who knew?
Defending the web, one lawsuit at a time
Welcome to OrthoLawyer Ronald Coleman, whose new blog Likelihood of Confusion covers developments in his exciting professional specialty: intellectual property law.
Yawn? Not if you're interested in hot topics like blog name theft, the Google/Geico case, and bloggers on the take.
A Jewish angle? How about the Yiddish with Dick and Jane fight?
Yawn? Not if you're interested in hot topics like blog name theft, the Google/Geico case, and bloggers on the take.
A Jewish angle? How about the Yiddish with Dick and Jane fight?
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
Selling chametz: A solution for church and state?
I can't pass up a topic so relevant to the name of this blog.
Best of the Web Today, James Taranto's blog for OpinionJournal, made a rare foray into halacha last week by discussing the selling of chametz (see last item).
The context?
Secularists, though, insisted the sale was a scam. Writes Taranto: "Which just goes to show you that American secularists are more orthodox even than the most observant Jew."
From a halachic perspective, I can understand the secularists' position. The sale of chametz is subject to dispute even among Orthodox Jews, and some will not rely on it regarding absolute chametz ("chametz gamur"), which is a Torah-level prohibition. They will sell only various second-degree types of chametz which are prohibited only rabbinically.
So for ACLU secularists, who hold that the association of church and state is forbidden by the Constitution (d'oraitha, so to speak, l'havdil), I can understand why they would be machmir (rule strictly) on selling the parkland.
Regardless, a better analogy than the sale of chametz is perhaps the heter mechira, the temporary sale of agricultural land to non-Jews to circumvent the sabbatical restrictions of the Shmitta year. Like the Frederick park, this primarily involves the sale of land, not goods. The heter mechira, however, is a relatively recent innovation and remains hotly contested among Orthodox Jews, many of whom reject it entirely.
On final analysis, the Frederick sale seems on more solid ground than either of the halachic analogies. The land sale is presumably permanent, unlike the temporary sales for chametz or shmitta. If the court upholds the sale, it's hard to find constitutional fault with leaving the monument in place.
(Note: The usual "I am not a lawyer or rabbi" disclaimers apply.)
Best of the Web Today, James Taranto's blog for OpinionJournal, made a rare foray into halacha last week by discussing the selling of chametz (see last item).
The context?
The American Civil Liberties Union threatened to sue the city of Frederick, Md., over a Ten Commandments monument in a city park, so Mayor Jennifer Dougherty came up with a clever idea: She sold the land on which the monument sat to the local chapter of the Fraternal Order of Eagles. Since it's no longer on public land, she argued, it doesn't violate the separation of church and state--even though it's still in the middle of a city park.
Secularists, though, insisted the sale was a scam. Writes Taranto: "Which just goes to show you that American secularists are more orthodox even than the most observant Jew."
From a halachic perspective, I can understand the secularists' position. The sale of chametz is subject to dispute even among Orthodox Jews, and some will not rely on it regarding absolute chametz ("chametz gamur"), which is a Torah-level prohibition. They will sell only various second-degree types of chametz which are prohibited only rabbinically.
So for ACLU secularists, who hold that the association of church and state is forbidden by the Constitution (d'oraitha, so to speak, l'havdil), I can understand why they would be machmir (rule strictly) on selling the parkland.
Regardless, a better analogy than the sale of chametz is perhaps the heter mechira, the temporary sale of agricultural land to non-Jews to circumvent the sabbatical restrictions of the Shmitta year. Like the Frederick park, this primarily involves the sale of land, not goods. The heter mechira, however, is a relatively recent innovation and remains hotly contested among Orthodox Jews, many of whom reject it entirely.
On final analysis, the Frederick sale seems on more solid ground than either of the halachic analogies. The land sale is presumably permanent, unlike the temporary sales for chametz or shmitta. If the court upholds the sale, it's hard to find constitutional fault with leaving the monument in place.
(Note: The usual "I am not a lawyer or rabbi" disclaimers apply.)
Israel through Canadian eyes
What's it like to live and work in Israel? Canada's Centre for Intercultural Learning offers advice for Canadians on making a first impression, interacting in the workplace, and getting to know Israel's culture.
Some highlights:
In case you can't tell, about half of this is insightful and accurate and the other half is hilariously absurd.
Some highlights:
- ...it is easy to associate a person with a specific political ideology by their dress. A right wing person would be a religiously observant looking--with a head covering for men and women and modest or dark coloured clothes. The left wing person would be more likely to wear "beach" attire (from a Canadian perspective); for men, for example, half-open button down shirts without an undershirt underneath.
- Gestures are more important than touching. You may meet Israelis who jump all over the place while trying to express a commonplace idea.
- Israelis speak loudly and quickly. They give the impression that they are in a rush or frustrated. Israelis often yell as though they were all worked up when in fact they are speaking in quite a normal tone of voice.
- The whole society is under a lot of stress and pressure. In a country where life can be ended in an instant by an attack, emotions run high. People get into fights at vegetable stands, with taxi drivers and in business meetings. Because anger is a staple of the Israeli diet, it need not be taken as seriously as it would be in Canada.
- Though things should run on army time--punctually, in reality, everyone seems to be running a little late. So, if you are the person with the upper hand--that is, you are the boss, the investor, the employer, you can come late. If you are looking for a job, a seed investment etc. you should be on time. The definition of late can vary from about 5 minutes to 40 minutes. Past the half-hour mark, the tables turn and the person who is late is considered rude.
- With respect to a religious woman, in an Orthodox Jewish family (as in other religions), the status of women is such that they do not work very much or at all; they are required to raise the children while husbands spend most of their time studying the Torah in Talmudic schools. In an orthodox family, it is considered to be a divine act ("Mitsva") for a woman to have a lot of children, and they are her responsibility, the father's role being to teach them about Jewish traditions and values.
- The Jewish religion, and religion in general, is very much respected. Respect of others is a dominant feature.
- Israelis (like people from many other countries) think that there are bears and Indians in traditional dress walking around Montreal and that even in summer the temperature is -30 degrees!!
In case you can't tell, about half of this is insightful and accurate and the other half is hilariously absurd.
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Happy Fruit Tax Accounting Day
Tu Bishvat did not originate as a festival. It was, rather, the start of the "tax year" for fruit tithes. Fruits which begin to grow before Tu Bishvat are tithed as part of the previous year's produce; from Tu Bishvat on, they belong to the following year's produce.
Why this date? The Talmud explains:
That is, Tu Bishvat is deliberately a midwinter event. The winter is Israel's rainy season, and Tu Bishvat falls at that delicate point when most of the rains are behind us, though most of the winter is still ahead of us.
What does this have to do with tithing fruits?
Simple. If most of the year's rain has already fallen, then the halacha assumes that any fruits which are already on the trees have grown on the current season's rain, and thus belong to the outgoing cycle of tithes. Any new fruits to grow will, by presumption, be nourished primarily by next season's rains and thus belong to the next cycle of tithes.
But wait! What's the difference between a fruit which grows on Shvat 14 and one which grows on Shvat 15? They were both watered from the same season's rains!
The stupid answer: There is no fruit growing in Shvat! At least not in ancient times. Fruit trees blossom in the spring and bear fruit in the summer. Hence "Hashkedia porachat" - the almond tree is the first tree to blossom, even before Tu Bishvat. But it doesn't bear fruit yet!
Tu Bishvat was chosen as the cutoff date for tithes because it is firmly between last year's and this year's growing seasons for fruit. All fruit clearly belongs to one side or the other.
Well, almost. Even in Talmudic times, it was clear that some fruit didn't fit the rule. Etrogim, in particular, can remain on the tree from one year to the next, and grow throughout the winter. The Talmud discusses their status, and ultimately the halacha is that Tu Bishvat doesn't apply to etrogim. They are tithed based on the date they're picked (not grown), and their cutoff date is Rosh Hashana, not Tu Bishvat.
So we eat dried fruit on Tu Bishvat (a much later custom - Tu Bishvat was not treated as a festival until at least medieval times) because fresh fruit is (generally) not available. Modern Zionists, trying to recruit Tu Bishvat to their land-building efforts, started planting trees on Tu Bishvat, despite the fact that it's a lousy time of year to plant trees.
But you don't have to do anything if you don't want to. Unless you have fruit trees in the land of Israel, in which case you should do your taxes!
Update: Judith Weiss of Kesher Talk offers more great Tu Bishvat links.
Why this date? The Talmud explains:
Said Rabbi Elazar in the name of Rabbi Oshaya: Since most of the rains of the year have passed, and most of the season remains. (Rosh Hashana 14a)
That is, Tu Bishvat is deliberately a midwinter event. The winter is Israel's rainy season, and Tu Bishvat falls at that delicate point when most of the rains are behind us, though most of the winter is still ahead of us.
What does this have to do with tithing fruits?
Simple. If most of the year's rain has already fallen, then the halacha assumes that any fruits which are already on the trees have grown on the current season's rain, and thus belong to the outgoing cycle of tithes. Any new fruits to grow will, by presumption, be nourished primarily by next season's rains and thus belong to the next cycle of tithes.
But wait! What's the difference between a fruit which grows on Shvat 14 and one which grows on Shvat 15? They were both watered from the same season's rains!
The stupid answer: There is no fruit growing in Shvat! At least not in ancient times. Fruit trees blossom in the spring and bear fruit in the summer. Hence "Hashkedia porachat" - the almond tree is the first tree to blossom, even before Tu Bishvat. But it doesn't bear fruit yet!
Tu Bishvat was chosen as the cutoff date for tithes because it is firmly between last year's and this year's growing seasons for fruit. All fruit clearly belongs to one side or the other.
Well, almost. Even in Talmudic times, it was clear that some fruit didn't fit the rule. Etrogim, in particular, can remain on the tree from one year to the next, and grow throughout the winter. The Talmud discusses their status, and ultimately the halacha is that Tu Bishvat doesn't apply to etrogim. They are tithed based on the date they're picked (not grown), and their cutoff date is Rosh Hashana, not Tu Bishvat.
So we eat dried fruit on Tu Bishvat (a much later custom - Tu Bishvat was not treated as a festival until at least medieval times) because fresh fruit is (generally) not available. Modern Zionists, trying to recruit Tu Bishvat to their land-building efforts, started planting trees on Tu Bishvat, despite the fact that it's a lousy time of year to plant trees.
But you don't have to do anything if you don't want to. Unless you have fruit trees in the land of Israel, in which case you should do your taxes!
Update: Judith Weiss of Kesher Talk offers more great Tu Bishvat links.
A vote for humility
If you're voting for the Jewish/Israel Blog awards, a suggestion: Why not support one of the many nominees who aren't loudly campaigning for votes?
The best bloggers don't need to promote themselves.
The best bloggers don't need to promote themselves.
Monday, January 24, 2005
Talmudic ghost stories
Do the dead know what happens in the land of the living?
The Talmud discusses this question at length in Berachot 18a-19a (starts with "R. Hiyya and R. Jonathan were once walking about in a cemetery").
Aside from interpretations of biblical verses, much of the evidence comprises anecdotes about the exploits of spirits in cemeteries. Read them and be spooked.
So, how are we moderns to relate to such passages? Are we required to believe them since they appear in the Gemara? Apparently the sages did, to the extent of determining halacha on their basis.
May we dismiss them as folk tales? On what basis would we do that? Just because they sound fantastical? They aren't more unbelievable than a host of biblical passages which Orthodox Jews certainly do believe (the flood, the splitting of the sea, the sun standing still, to name a few).
From a scientific perspective, science can neither prove nor disprove such tales. Just because we have no confirmed evidence of spirit communications is not proof that they do not exist. The fact that many modern westerners cringe at such stories is not evidence that they are false.
The issues at stake here are similar to those in the Nosson Slifkin controversy, though one step removed. Unlike the age of the earth or animal anatomy, science has no decisive position on ghosts and spirits. A lack of evidence does not constitute proof, as the Talmudic maxim goes. If we reject ghosts, we do so based on our own instincts and experiences. No scientific methodology can decide the question.
On the question of spirits, we are not forced into a choice between science and Torah. So why do we find it so difficult?
The Talmud discusses this question at length in Berachot 18a-19a (starts with "R. Hiyya and R. Jonathan were once walking about in a cemetery").
Aside from interpretations of biblical verses, much of the evidence comprises anecdotes about the exploits of spirits in cemeteries. Read them and be spooked.
So, how are we moderns to relate to such passages? Are we required to believe them since they appear in the Gemara? Apparently the sages did, to the extent of determining halacha on their basis.
May we dismiss them as folk tales? On what basis would we do that? Just because they sound fantastical? They aren't more unbelievable than a host of biblical passages which Orthodox Jews certainly do believe (the flood, the splitting of the sea, the sun standing still, to name a few).
From a scientific perspective, science can neither prove nor disprove such tales. Just because we have no confirmed evidence of spirit communications is not proof that they do not exist. The fact that many modern westerners cringe at such stories is not evidence that they are false.
The issues at stake here are similar to those in the Nosson Slifkin controversy, though one step removed. Unlike the age of the earth or animal anatomy, science has no decisive position on ghosts and spirits. A lack of evidence does not constitute proof, as the Talmudic maxim goes. If we reject ghosts, we do so based on our own instincts and experiences. No scientific methodology can decide the question.
On the question of spirits, we are not forced into a choice between science and Torah. So why do we find it so difficult?
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